


Just Let Me Adore You

by laconicarcadia



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (kind of), Biting, Come Marking, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, First Time, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has an Oral Fixation, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mild Blood, Oral Fixation, Pain Kink, Pining Jaskier | Dandelion, emotional chats, that part is very mild, they're both idiots during the sex but what can you do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicarcadia/pseuds/laconicarcadia
Summary: Geralt’s got one of his fingers pulled up to his mouth, crooked so he can chew lightly on his second knuckle.Jaskier means to look away before Geralt notices him staring but he physically can’t make himself. His vision is fixed on where Geralt’s lips wrap around his skin, on the slight movement of his jaw and the flashes of spit-slick skin that he catches.But Geralt does look up. And he does notice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 34
Kudos: 197





	Just Let Me Adore You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alohomoramyheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alohomoramyheart/gifts).



> so sorry this has taken me like. two months but thank you for being patient!! wouldn't have written this without you trekie :>
> 
> thank you to [snapbackbuddies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapbackbuddies) for betaing even though we're not even in the same fandom! love you bunches <3
> 
> my first time posting porn! wish me luck. lol
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Jaskier and Geralt had settled down at camp for the night about an hour ago. The forest around them was light, but not scarce, and far from any road. Even with less foliage, Geralt had already caught three rabbits and cooked all of them. He’s certainly efficient, Jaskier muses.

Geralt’s finished his second full rabbit, although Jaskier’s only halfway through his. He has no reason to be as ravenous as a witcher, he supposes.

Jaskier looks up through his eyelashes as he picks at his food, checking on Geralt. The witcher has a bare leg bone in his mouth, held up in one hand as he grinds it between his molars. Jaskier’s eyebrows furrow. He’s not known Geralt to be the type to fidget. Why hasn’t he ever seen Geralt fidget before? Was he just not paying close enough attention? Perhaps this is a common occurrence, and Jaskier is always too absorbed in himself to notice.

Jaskier sits up straight and lowers the rabbit haunch from his mouth. “Geralt,” He says.

Geralt grunts and does not look away from the fire or remove the bone from between his teeth. He’s just... staring into the flame. Clearly more important and interesting than talking to or even looking at Jaskier.

“Why are you chewing on a clean bone?”

That makes Geralt look up at him, startled, then he quickly pulls the bone from his mouth and throws it onto the fire. He glares weakly at Jaskier once before avoiding his eyes.

“Wha- hey!” Jaskier yelps. “I’m sorry, I meant no offense, I was just wondering!”

Geralt only growls.

Jaskier doesn’t even know why that made Geralt so upset in the first place. It’s natural to fidget. Everyone does it. Even witchers. There’s no need for him to be so embarrassed. He nearly snorts. _Embarrassed_. Geralt would hate if he said that allowed. Talk about how witchers don’t have emotions and that even if they did he wouldn’t be embarrassed anyway, like it was a ridiculous idea. But Jaskier knows him, has travelled with him for years now. Geralt is embarrassed. And Jaskier doesn’t know why. It makes him ceaselessly curious, but maybe now it’s best to be quiet.

Jaskier sighs and focuses back on his food, resigning himself to thinking on his most recent, and as of yet unfinished, ballad. In silence. While Geralt… ponders the ever so important fire. Jaksier begins to hum while he eats, trying to work out a second bridge that rhymes but also fits with the rest of the story. The song is about the last hunt that Geralt did- a pack of sirens grouped in a small, inland lake. Rather uncommon, from what little Geralt said. Jaskier was exaggerating a bit, weaving metaphors of the siren’s excellent singing voices and their astounding ability to bespell their opponents with nothing but music. Geralt, as always, hated this song like the rest and growled at him when he heard the lyrics for the first time, pointing out that he’d gotten knocked on his ass by their screams, and not in a fun way at all. Nonetheless, Jaskier had his opinion, Geralt had his, and neither would be changing.

Another quick check on the witcher shows him cleaning his swords. Rather passive aggressively, in fact. Scrubbing at them hard with his rag and decidedly not looking up even the slightest amount.

Jaskier sighs. So it’s going to be one of those nights, huh.

Jaskier could grovel, beg, and tell Geralt he’s sorry a thousand times, but it won’t do anything on days like these. Geralt is Geralt and he’ll likely be upset for days over this one little thing, and there’s not a single thing Jaskier can do about it. He regrets asking about the stupid bone already. He should have just watched Geralt gnaw on the damn thing like a dog without saying a word. Jaskier frowns to himself and fiddles with his own leg bone, staring at the grass between between his feet and trying not to feel too sorry for himself.

The truth is that he knows the feeling of wanting to keep your mouth occupied well. It’s just that Jaskier never would’ve suspected something similar from Geralt. It’s also entirely possible that he’s reading into this way too much, but Jaskier’s curious by nature. Gets him in trouble.

Jaskier watches Geralt put his swords down out of the corner of his eye, and then settle his elbows onto his knees, staring into the fire once more. He’s at least semi-relaxed now, which Jaskier feels is the best he’s going to get. He takes a deep breath, ready to apologize at least once more, give it the old college try even though it’s never worked before, and then the words gets caught in his throat when he looks up at the witcher properly.

Geralt’s got one of his fingers pulled up to his mouth, crooked so he can chew lightly on his second knuckle.

Jaskier means to look away before Geralt notices him staring but he physically can’t make himself. His vision is fixed on where Geralt’s lips wrap around his skin, on the slight movement of his jaw and the flashes of spit-slick skin that he catches.

But Geralt does look up. And he does notice.

He hurriedly pulls his hand away from his mouth, lip curling up in annoyance, and physically turns his back to Jaskier.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, and when that gets him nowhere, groans and places the bone in his hand on the ground beside him so that he can focus on his friend. “Geralt, don’t be like that.”

No response.

Jaskier takes a deep breath and comes quietly to sit behind Geralt, facing the fire so that there’s just barely space between his shoulder and Geralt’s back. He knows how averse Geralt is to physical contact, and now is not the time to push him on it.

“Listen,” He says softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you before, when I pointed out the… the bone. I just thought it seemed different from your usual behavior, and I wanted to be sure you were alright. That something wasn’t bothering you, I mean.”

“Of course I’m alright,” Geralt’s gruff voice is lowered, matching his own, and tinged with confusion. “The siren hunt was days ago.”

“Not just physically,” Jaskier responds, gently as he can. Geralt is quiet beside him. Jaskier closes his eyes. He presses his shoulder to Geralt’s back to remind him that he’s here. If he wants.

Truth is, Jaskier prefers to keep his mouth busy too. It’s why he’s always talking, singing, eating, chewing on his quills, or, well, having some private time with a lovely partner. Jaskier doesn’t know if telling Geralt that he feels the same will make Geralt feel better or like he’s being prosecuted, but trying is better than doing nothing.

“I chew on things too,” Jaskier confesses, glancing at Geralt as he does, even though it’s just the back of his neck. Geralt is staring at the ground. “I mean, you see how I fiddle with my quills. And it’s why I talk so much. Sing so much. I… like to keep my mouth busy.”

Geralt shifts to face the fire with Jaskier. Their shoulders are brushing, now. Jaskier would love nothing more than to lean into his friend, really _feel_ him there, but he’s hesitant. Geralt’s not too fond of touch. Best not to push it. They’ve already had an emotional chat, and even though Geralt hasn’t said much of anything, Jaskier knows that it’s still been taxing for him.

Jaskier takes a deep breath and reiterates himself once more. “I honestly didn’t mean to offend you, Geralt. I was just wondering if-” When Jaskier turns to Geralt the witcher is already looking, an earnest expression on his face. His eyebrows are ticked up slightly and his eyes are nearly molten, soft and glowing in the firelight. Jaskier should be glad that Geralt is listening, possibly believes what he is saying, but he finds himself distracted. “If…” The “you were like me” dissolves on his tongue.

Jaskier can’t help it as his gaze slides down to Geralt’s lips. They’re parted, a bit dry, but they still look soft. Geralt licks them as Jaskier is watching and Jaskier sucks his bottom lip into his own mouth and bites down on it. He then shakes himself, pull himself from the reverie, only to find that Geralt is staring at his mouth too. He gasps lightly.

And then Jaskier leans forward carefully, slow enough so that Geralt could pull away and slight enough that Jaskier could still have deniability.

Geralt doesn’t pull away. He’s still staring.

Jaskier pushes forward the rest of the way. Their lips meet lightly, the kiss barely there, nothing but a brush of skin.

For a moment Geralt is tense, unmoving, and Jaskier’s chest fills with regret and anxiety and fear and- and then Geralt melts beneath him and leans into it, kissing him back slow and gentle like he’s something fragile and cherished; like he’s seen Geralt kiss Yennefer. It makes Jaskier’s hands tingle. He clenches them tight where they rest on his legs to subdue the feeling.

Geralt is good at kissing, sweet and soft in the way he arches up and wraps a hand around Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier wants to kiss Geralt and kiss Geralt and never stop, but unfortunately he cannot kiss Geralt _and_ breathe so they have to stop.

He pulls away and presses his forehead to Geralt’s, panting for air. Their breaths are the only sound in the otherwise silent night, twined around each other like two leaves falling from the same tree. Geralt’s eyes are still closed from their kiss, his eyelashes fluttering arrhymically against his pale cheek and mouth dropped open with his heaving breathes. The sight makes Jaskier’s chest warm.

“That… that was…” Jaskier is still breathless. He can barely get in enough air to speak, and yet he’s desperate to kiss Geralt again, entranced by his features and the twitch of his fingers on Jaskier’s bicep. Jaskier moves one hand up to drag the pad of his pointer finger over Geralt’s bottom lip, to cup Geralt’s jaw and pet over the soft give of Geralt’s cheek with his thumb.

Geralt opens his eyes then, meeting Jaskier’s gaze. A soft noise falls from his lips and he pushes his face into Jaskier’s neck. His skin feels warm against Jaskier’s already heated skin and his lips feel even hotter. Geralt presses a kiss below Jaskier’s ear, and then more and more of them as he follows a large vein down the side of his neck. Jaskier’s breaths are much shakier now than they were before. He slips his hand down from Geralt’s head to rest on his shoulder, squeezing the thick muscle there as Geralt lavishes attention on his neck.

“Fuck, Geralt, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To kiss you, and hold you, and…” Jaskier trails off, closing his eyes and immersing himself in the moment. Geralt stays buried in his neck, even though Jaskier is breathing normally (or as normal as he can at a moment like this) and they could definitely be making out again by now. He licks a long, broad line from the top of Jaskier’s shoulder to his jaw, then sucks _hard_ at the skin just below. Jaskier doesn’t want to rush Geralt into anything, but he really, _really_ wants to make out with him again. Like, a lot. Absurdly a lot. He tries to center himself, relax, and smooths his hand from Geralt’s shoulder to the back of his neck so that he can play with the witcher’s hair. Jaskier slides his fingers up slowly into the strands, feels the way they filter between his fingers and curl around his hand. He twirls them around his fingers gently and scrubs at Geralt’s scalp while the witcher occupies himself with giving Jaskier a collection rather dark hickies, from the feel of it.

Jaskier sighs into the feeling and tilts his head back, pulling Geralt in closer by the neck as he savors this moment for all it is. However, as soon as Geralt releases his skin from between his teeth, the mark complete and stinging, Jaskier fists his hand in Geralt’s hair and hauls the witcher's mouth back to his own.

“Come back here,” Jaskier purrs playfully, barely catching the flush on Geralt’s cheeks before their meets meet again. Jaskier pushes his tongue in, exploring Geralt’s mouth; he runs the tip of his tongue across Geralt’s teeth and then pushes the flat of it against Geralt’s own.

Jaskier hadn’t noticed that Geralt’s teeth are sharper than a human’s before this moment, but now that he feels them against his lips and tongue Jaskier’s confident that Geralt’s canines are sharper than his own. The pressure of them against his tongue verges on painful as Geralt leans closer, one palm coming to rest heavily against Jaskier’s thigh. His hand feels like a brand on Jaskier’s flesh. He has to tamp down on the urge to bite his lip, since Geralt’s is currently in his mouth.

Jaskier’s free hand, still resting in his lap, is just barely skirting Geralt’s. He hesitates for just a moment, not even half a second, and then nudges his hand to brush against Geralt’s; his fingertips skim over Geralt’s knuckles and the small contact zaps through him, electricity coursing all the way up his arm and pooling somewhere deep inside him. Geralt’s fingers twitch under his. Jaskier settles his palm over the back of the witcher’s hand, loosely curling his hand around Geralt’s. Jaskier can feel the warmth of him leaking into his own palm. It makes him shiver, oddly enough.

Geralt presses closer yet, nipping at Jaskier’s lip and curling his tongue around the bard’s. Jaskier breathes a moan into Geralt’s mouth, tugging soft at his hair before letting his hand slip down to hold Geralt’s, rather substantial, if Jaskier might add, bicep.

“Jaskier…” Geralt murmurs, the words near a groan against his lips. Jaskier means to be cheeky, answer with a “yes, dear?” and a firm squeeze on his arm, but then Geralt turns his hand up into Jaskier’s, interlocking their fingers and holding tight to his hand. Surprise jolts through him and then the absolute sweetness of it all warms him all the way through. Jaskier pulls back with a grin, overjoyed with the feeling of it, but before he can catch more than a glimpse of Geralt’s face the witcher’s face is already hidden back into Jaskier’s neck with a high-pitched whine. Jaskier lets his grin fade back into a gentle smile, rubbing his thumb back and forth on Geralt’s arm in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

He glances down at their joined hands as Geralt kisses at his neck again, feeling giddy once more at the sight of his hand enveloped in Geralt’s. Geralt’s kisses on his throat are open-mouthed and a bit sloppy, hints of his teeth scraping over Jaskier’s skin at times. His teeth graze lightly over the vein on Jaskier’s neck and the bard shivers, pressing up into Geralt’s mouth with a soft groan. He flexes his fingers tighter against Geralt’s, holding tight to him, and then lets his eyes fall shut.

“This is nice,” Jaskier comments. He means it. He’s imagined having moments like this with Geralt so many times, but the fact that he’s got one, _in_ one, fills him with an indescribable amount of happiness.

Geralt licks at the thin skin on his throat, thundering with Jaskier’s pulse, and then drags his teeth, just as gently as before, down the line of his neck. Jaskier moans in earnest this time, the noise echoing through the quiet clearing around them. His neck is prickling with heat, probably flushed a deep red, and his cock is interested, half filled out and inches from his and Geralt’s interlocked hands. Jaskier barely holds back another moan at the thought, and then his jaw drops open anyway for a different reason. The witcher sets his teeth against the tendon on Jaskier’s neck, pressing his teeth lightly into Jaskier’s flesh, so close to biting him but not yet there. Jaskier squeezes tight on Geralt’s hand.

Geralt releases him from between his teeth- _between his teeth,_ fuck- and, with one lave of his tongue over the area, starts to kiss up and down Jaskier’s neck again. Jaskier hums, brows gently furrowed, and pets down Geralt’s hair.

“Do you want to bite me, Geralt?”

Geralt jerks back instantly, his hand tugging on Jaskier’s where he’s forgotten that they’re still interlocked. He tries to pull away but Jaskier holds tight to him, both with his hand holding Geralt’s own and the one entangled in his hair. He won’t look at Jaskier. His muscles are all locked up, ready to jump away- Jaskier can practically see the guilt radiating off of him. Jaskier keeps his hand firm on the back of Geralt’s head, ensuring he can’t run away, and clicks his tongue. “Shh, it’s okay.” He kisses Geralt’s temple and rubs his thumb slowly up and down the back of Geralt’s hand. “You can bite me, if you like. I know I would enjoy it.”

Geralt’s breath hitches.

And then he opens his mouth wide over Jaskier’s neck. He hesitates, and all of Jaskier’s focus tunnels in on Geralt’s hot breath cascading down Jaskier’s skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. His skin feels chilled between breaths.

Geralt finally closes his teeth over Jaskier’s neck and bites hard, his teeth sinking deep into Jaskier’s flesh with a sharp flash of pain. Jaskier can’t contain a gasp, the hand he has tangled in Geralt’s hair jerking inward to clench hard around the back of Geralt’s neck. His hips flex upwards, unwarranted, the muscles in his thighs shifting beneath their clasped hands and his cock twitches hard where it’s constrained in his breeches. He knows Geralt can feel it because the witcher squeezes his hand tight afterward. Jaskier lets out his breath through his teeth, hissing under his breath.

When Geralt’s teeth pull free Jaskier has to bite down hard on his lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. Geralt moans indulgently himself, licking a hot stripe over Jaskier’s aching skin. He stays close after, his nose pressed up under Jaskier’s jaw as he breathes deep. Jaskier takes the moment to try and calm himself, his breaths currently rattling through his chest rather ruggedly. Geralt untangles his fingers from Jaskier’s and slides them slowly up his thigh until his fingertips are just brushing Jaskier’s hipbone. All of Jaskier’s hope of calming down flies out the window with that move, his mouth dropping open silently as Geralt’s hand nears his cock. Jaskier feels like his thoughts grow sparser and sparser the closer Geralt gets, the more he touches Jaskier. Like the world around them hazes more and more until it’s fixed upon a single point. Geralt kisses chastely at his jaw, just once, and then shifts his hand to cautiously rub over the bulge in Jaskier’s pants.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, clenching his hand over the back of Geralt’s neck, spasming once before his hand slides down Geralt’s back. The witcher licks up his jaw and squeezes Jaskier’s cock; Jaskier’s eyes roll up into his head. “ _Oh-_ wait, wait,” Jaskier interrupts, pushing Geralt’s hand away with one final shiver. “You deserve some attention, too.” Jaskier kisses beside Geralt’s ear gently. The witcher’s face is still hidden in his neck- he really isn’t fond of attention, is he? “I feel like I’ve been getting doted on while you’re left on the side, that won’t do.” Jaskier says, and presses his cheek to the top of Geralt’s head as he edges closer. “Let me.”

Geralt still doesn’t say anything, but he allows Jaskier to lead his hand away from Jaskier’s lap without objection and he doesn’t even move when Jaskier reaches over to unbutton his breeches. In fact, he pants against Jaskier’s skin, sounding near _strained_ , and sets his teeth below Jaskier’s jaw. He bites down slowly, like he’s savoring the feel of Jaskier’s flesh giving under the force of his jaw like dough being kneaded into shape. As it is, Jaskier finds it difficult to focus on the task at hand, what with Geralt teasing him like this. He’s never had a partner bite him before but Jaskier’s definitely going to ask for it more often at this rate. _Fuck_ , that feels good. Jaskier groans, only partially theatrical, and tugs Geralt’s face up from where he’s ravaging Jaskier’s neck.

“Come here, come here,” Jaskier says. If Jaskier was a man with any more shame, or any at all, really, he might feel embarrassed- he truly does sound breathless and desperate. “Kiss me, Geralt.”

Geralt has no complaints, surging forward to take Jaskier’s mouth with his own as the bard finally gets the witcher’s pants out of the way and pulls his cock out. The first touch of his hand around Geralt, just under the head, makes the witcher gasp. He’s hot and throbbing in Jaskier’s grasp, no doubt aching from being ignored. Jaskier pulls back so he can watch his friend’s face; he has to hold onto Geralt’s shoulder to keep him in his eyeline when Geralt moves immediately to tuck his face into Jaskier’s shoulder again.

“Oh, hush,” Jaskier teases, a smile rising on his lips that he can’t force down, even if Geralt won’t meet his eyes. “I want to see you, please don’t hide from me.” It’s the truth, achingly bare in Jaskier’s chest- he always wants to see Geralt, in every capacity. It feels good to have it out there, even just once. Geralt looks up at his words. Jaskier has never quite seen puppy dog eyes on a witcher before, but Geralt pulls it off quite well. It makes Jaskier’s heart feel warm and full. He laughs.

“You still want something in you mouth, don’t you?” Jaskier grins and leans forward to kiss Geralt quickly before pulling back to watch his reaction. Geralt chases after him with a barely audible whine, gaze glued to Jaskier’s lips. Jaskier studies Geralt fondly, lifts his free hand from Geralt’s shoulder to skim his fingertips feather-light over Geralt’s neck and jaw and cheek until he finally runs his thumb over Geralt’s bottom lip. He smears it to the side, just to see what Geralt will do (stare at him with hot, dark eyes) and then pushes his thumb into Geralt’s mouth.

Geralt likes that. He closes his eyes and leans closer, taking more of Jaskier’s thumb into his mouth. His mouth is enrapturing and wet and scorching hot. The rest of Jaskier feels cold in comparison. Geralt presses his tongue against Jaskier’s fingertip and then up against the nail, he spins his tongue around the digit in his mouth and then sucks on it like it’s a cock. Jaskier is entirely distracted for a long moment, can’t make himself drag his eyes away.

“You like that, huh,” Jaskier murmurs, still stuck, unable to pull his gaze away from Geralt’s mouth, lips wrapped tight around his thumb.

Geralt’s cock twitches in his hand. Jaskier sucks in a sharp breath and Geralt groans into Jaskier’s skin. Geralt pulls Jaskier’s finger deeper into his mouth, presses his molars down against it, and gnaws at Jaskier’s finger gently, rocking his jaw back and forth like he’s trying to grind it up.

Jaskier is straining against his trousers and he realizes that he can’t do… _this_ and take care of Geralt. Jaskier sighs, pulls his thumb free from Geralt’s mouth with a pop and a note of sorrow. Instead, he returns his hand to the back of Geralt’s neck, gently guiding Geralt to hide his face into Jaskier’s neck as he so inclined. Geralt’s cock jerks in Jaskier’s grip. Again. The idea that Geralt is that riled up really makes Jaskier feel… sexy. Well, he usually feels sexy. But being sexy to Geralt feels much more triumphant than the usual amount of sexy he feels. Jaskier hums, kisses Geralt’s hair, and tightens his fist just under the head of Geralt’s cock. He works only the top few inches, his fingertips pressed in hard against Geralt’s frenulum.

Geralt gasps and then bites hard into the muscle at the juncture between Jaskier’s neck and shoulder, desperate for something else to focus on, and grinds his teeth deep into Jaskier as a groan leaks out of his throat. Jaskier has to clench his jaw, so hard he swears his bones creak, in order not to make a sound and squeezes his eyes shut. _Geralt, Geralt, focus on Geralt_. His cock twitches irregardless of his inner mantra, leaking like a faucet into his underclothes. Jaskier decides to give his witcher a break, lest he come in his pants from Geralt _biting_ him in retaliation, and slides his hand down the full length of Geralt’s prick to squeeze gently at the base.

The witcher unlocks his jaw with a loud breath, his pants and groans pressed into Jaskier’s skin still, his cheek smushed against Jaskier’s shoulder. “Fuck,” His voice is just a whisper of breath. Geralt’s entire body is trembling- Jaskier can feel the tremors running through his lips and his hands and his legs as Geralt crowds closer, like he’s trying to crawl on top of Jaskier or possibly inside him.

“Mm,” Jaskier hums in return, a smile on his lips just for himself. Geralt’s face remains hidden. Jaskier leans his head to the side, knocking his temple gently into the side of Geralt’s head. “You like doing that, don’t you?” He drops his voice down to a whisper then, tilting his mouth closer to Geralt’s ear. “I like it, too, you know. The pain, knowing that you’ve left a mark on me, and that everyone will see it…” He shivers for show. “All of it.”

Geralt moans. His hips stutter upwards into Jaskier’s hand, his cock dripping wet. Another bead of precome leaks from Geralt’s cock as Jaskier squeezes his fist tight up toward the head. Jaskier smirks, says, “I wouldn’t mind marking you up, either.” Geralt’s breath hitches. He tilts his head to the side, slight enough that Jaskier thinks it’s probably subconscious. “People would pass by wondering who’s bold enough to claim the White Wolf like that…” He moans delicately into Geralt’s hear, feels the man’s responding shiver.

Jaskier leans in and scrapes his teeth against the skin of Geralt’s throat, teasing him with the idea, but in the end he doesn’t give Geralt a mark. Right now he wants to focus on making Geralt feel good, just like this, no tricks required. Geralt is throbbing in his hand. Jaskier pulls away from Geralt’s neck with a chuckle. He gets a rhythm going, stroking from bottom to top with a twist just under the head. Geralt likes that- he’s panting, now, hot and wet against Jaskier’s neck like he’s in pain. Another groan leaks out of him.

“Mm, you’re close, aren’t you?”

Geralt whines, presses his hips up desperately so that the tip of his cock brushes Jaskier’s shirt. Jaskier’s never heard him him like this, all high-pitched and needy. He likes it. He likes it _a lot_.

“Jaskier,” Geralt gasps, _groans_ , and then digs his teeth so deep into Jaskier’s neck that he feels a rivulet of blood run down and pool into his collarbone.

This time it’s Jaskier who cries out, deep from his chest. “Oh, Melitele, _Geralt_ -!” He has to yank his hand off the back of Geralt’s neck to press the heel of it hard against his own dick, mouth dropped wide open. His cock feels oversensitive and it _aches_ after being ignored for so long. Geralt’s bite _does_ something to him, gets him much closer to coming in his pants than he would prefer.

Jaskier hisses as Geralt pulls back and his teeth pulling free from Jaskier’s now extremely sensitive neck. “ _Ngh_ , Geralt…” Jaskier tilts his face skyward, biting hard at his lip and squeezing lightly at the bulge in his pants as he keeps jerking Geralt quick and tight with his other hand.

Geralt gasps suddenly, his heaving breath ragged in his throat, and his cock pulses hot against Jaskier’s hand and he’s coming in three strong jets all over Jaskier’s pants and his hands, shaking like a leaf and tucked in as close to Jaskier as he can be. Geralt whines quietly as Jaskier works him through it, his lips brushing through the bloody mess on Jaskier’s neck.

“‘M sorry,” He mumbles.

Jaskier laughs and kisses the side of Geralt’s head. He uses his other hand to squeeze Geralt’s thigh. “Nothing to be sorry for, witcher. I think you’ll find I quite enjoyed that. All of it.”

Geralt grunts- great, back to “hmm”s and “fuck”s again, it would seem- and knocks Jaskier’s hand away from his cock. Jaskier watches him pull back and promptly catch sight of Jaskier’s other hand, clenched tight in his breeches. Jaskier feels his face heat and he means to pull his hand away, but then he looks down at his lap too and. And. His hand in streaked in white lines, _Geralt’s come_ , and his pants are still buttoned all the way up. It’s almost mortifying, how tented Jaskier’s pants are underneath his hand. Scratch that, it _is_ mortifying. Jaskier’s a hair’s width away from bursting into nervous laughter when Geralt’s hand drifts down to Jaskier’s knee.

Jaskier sucks in a breath as the witcher’s hand slides up the material of his pants, slow like Geralt isn’t sure if he should, until it brushes against Jaskier’s own. Jaskier doesn’t move an inch- he wants to push Geralt’s hand where he _needs_ him as much as he wants to shove his hand away. In the end he’s stuck staring down at Geralt’s hand, frozen.

“Am I allowed to take care of you now?” Geralt rumbles, teasing. When Jaskier looks up at him through his eyelashes, he finds the witcher’s gaze flicking all around but never settling on his face. Geralt’s fingers twitch where they lay on his leg.

“I…” Jaskier swallows, quickly looking away when Geralt looks up. Who’s shy now, he thinks. It’s just that he’s imagined this so many times. He wants this more than he can say. It’s an ugly mess inside of him, his feelings for Geralt. He never thought he’d get here to begin with, much less having Geralt want to reciprocate. This could mean less to Geralt than it does to him, could be a one night stand with an annoying travel companion and nothing more. It would be safer to get out now, with as many of his feelings intact as he can. He should go. He _should_.

“Yes,” Jaskier’s comes out barely a whisper. He isn’t strong enough to refuse this. Still.. He clears his throat lightly and continues. “If… you would like. You don’t have to, of course. I’ll be alright either way. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Jaskier.”

He doesn’t mean to look up at Geralt, to give him all of his attention immediately, but he does. Jaskier’s not capable of keeping anything from him that he asks for.

Geralt’s expression is gentle. “Of course I… want to.” His eyebrows are furrowed tight as he searches for the words. Jaskier feels more at ease, with that. Familiar ground. “I always want you.”

Jaskier’s heart pounds so hard in his chest that he feels dizzy for a moment. He feels light. He feels like he’s _floating_. “Really?” He should try not to sound to desperate, but he really doesn’t care about any of that right now.

Geralt hums, then surges forward and kisses him in a way that can only be described as loving.

It doesn’t take long for Geralt to finish him off. To be honest, Geralt wouldn’t’ve even had to unbutton Jaskier’s pants. Geralt’s warm hand wrapped around his cock feels unbearably good. Paired with Geralt’s lips against his own Jaskier doesn’t stand a chance.

“That was,” Jaskier has to pause and catch his breath. “Wow.” He trails off into a moan, leaning his head against Geralt’s shoulder as his chest heaves.

Geralt hums and wipes his hand off on Jaskier’s already soiled pantleg.

“Hey!” Jaskier yelps, swatting Geralt’s hand away with a laugh. It makes Geralt laugh in return, his nose pressed to Jaskier’s cheek so that the warmth of his joy washes over Jaskier’s ear, and isn’t _that_ a wonderful sensation. “You brute,” Jaskier says, with absolutely no bite.

“Hm.” Geralt pulls back and runs his fingertips over the ragged edges of the still sluggishly bleeding bite mark on Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier gasps lightly at the feeling. The skin surrounding the wound is sensitive, warm and prickling at Geralt’s touch. Geralt’s frowning now, the lines etched deeply into his skin, and the gentle smile that was gracing his face before gone. Jaskier aches for it’s return. “That I am.”

Jaskier groans and barely holds back from rolling his eyes. “Not _this_ again. No, Geralt.” Jaskier grabs Geralt’s cheeks firmly in both of his hands, tilting Geralt’s eyeline to meet his own. “You’re not a monster.” Usually Geralt doesn’t believe him when he says things like this, but Jaskier can tell that Geralt at least _wants_ to believe him by the way he’s looking at him. Usually Geralt looks away or closes his eyes, but right now he’s staring right back at Jaskier, his eyes wide and hopeful. “I wanted that. Exactly that. And we both liked it! You… felt how much I liked it.” Jaskier chuckles and presses his lips to Geralt’s in a quick peck. “I loved it Geralt. I wouldn’t take any of it back.”

He reaches back and covers Geralt’s hand in his own, both of their hands brushing the blood drying tacky on Jaskier’s neck. Geralt grumbles and looks away, but Jaskier can feel him still gently stroking his skin beside the bite, and Jaskier knows that Geralt wouldn’t take it back either.

“Let me put some salve on that.” Geralt’s voice is a low rumble deep in his throat.

“Whatever you like.” Jaskier sits back on his elbows with a grin so that Geralt can get up and grab his bag. Geralt hesitates once Jaskier untangles himself, then leans back in for one more long peck before standing up.

Jaskier watches him walk across their camp and crouch over his bag, the waning fire casting a warm glow onto the side of his face and highlighting the disheveled state of his hair. He feels more content than he has in awhile, at camp like this. Things are calm, peaceful.

Geralt finishes fishing the tin of salve out of his bag and looks over his shoulder, catching Jaskier’s gaze. His small smile is illuminated in the firelight. Jaskier beckons him back over with a wave of his hand and a smile in return.

Things are good.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! my tumblr is [softnerdypeter](https://softnerdypeter.tumblr.com/) :>


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